


On Being Better People

by Ahmerst



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 17:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2859374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahmerst/pseuds/Ahmerst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mink doesn’t mean to take the scrap of a kid he finds in the back alley of a club under his wing, but when he finds the kid is in more trouble than he realizes, it’s hard not to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Being Better People

Mink only noticed the kid because he was trying so hard _not_ to be noticed. At first there was nothing but darkness at the end of the alleyway he'd stepped into. Then, darkness still, but a noise from within it. The rustling of clothes, barely audible above the muted thump of music coming from the club he'd left. Mink hesitated where he stood, eyes trained on the blackened end of the alleyway as he deftly lit his pipe.

Two drags in, the thing at the end of the alley moved again. With his eyes adjusting to the low light, Mink could make out the barest outline of a figure hunched down, knees to chest, arms looped over them to pull them close. Smaller, fainter, hardly there at all. An uneasy electricity prickled beneath Mink’s skin, and he took a step forward as the hair on his forearms stood on end.

“Oi,” he said gruffly. “What are you doing down there?”

The figure didn’t speak, didn’t move. He started to doubt they were even breathing at this point. With his own breath coming out in frosty puffs, fingertips numb from the cold, Mink wondered if the winter chill had already sunk its claws into them.

His attention was drawn from the figure as the low light of the alley dimmed further, shadows casting from the mouth as he looked over his shoulder to see the cause. Two silhouettes stood at the mouth of the alley, 

“Terribly sorry,” the slighter one called.

“Yeah, terrible,” the second one added. Mink could nearly hear the first rolling his eyes.

“But have you happened to see someone run by this way?” the first one asked. 

“What kind of ‘someone’?” Mink asked in turn.

“Oh, you know. Yay high,” the first started, holding his hand near his own shoulders. “Very slim-”

“Bag of bones,” the second said flatly. 

Mink nearly missed how the first one’s elbow sunk into the second one’s side.

“Something like that. Blue hair as well. He’s a difficult person not to remember, really.”

Mink leveled the two with a wary stare. Brains and Brawn, he decided. Both of them trouble. 

“Haven’t seen him,” Mink grunted, turning his gaze from them back to the dead end of the alleyway.

He listened for them to leave, waited to hear their footsteps grow distant. There was nothing of the sort behind him, only an exasperated sort of sigh that he knew accompanied an eye roll. The shifting of weight from foot to foot. Mink ignored the both of them, lungs warming as he inhaled from his pipe, eyes training again on the small figure.

Black pants, black top. A hood pulled up, face obscured. The single spot of color was the lock of blue hair that had slipped past the hood. God damn it. Of course Mink would find the one person who would be the most trouble tonight.

“Surely you wouldn’t mind if we had a look around, would you?” Brains asked.

“I would,” Mink said, shutting his eyes tight for a moment. 

He could leave. Just walk out and turn his back on the lot of them, continue on his own way, minding his own business. That would be for the best, he told himself. A clean break from this trio of stooges, no blood on his hands.

But it’d be on his conscious. How he hated having one of those.

“So he is here,” Brawn commented. 

There were footsteps then. Soft ones, creeping forward.

“I have business with him before you do,” Mink said, closing the distance between himself and the figure.

He didn’t wait for them to react, instead crouching down to fist his hands into the kid’s shirt, pulling him to his feet in one fluid motion. Slight was overly generous. Even ‘bag of bones’ was pushing it. The kid was kitten-light in his hold and unsure on his feet the second he was on them.

His eyes snapped up to focus on Mink, and they were wild. Tiger iron gold and lucid, bright against his dirt-smudged skin. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he snarled, hands gripping at Mink’s forearms. His hold was weak and shakey. His lips were nearly as blue as his hair from the cold.

“Deal with it,” Mink snarled backer, lower, more deadly. “Unless you want to deal with them.”

The hold on his wrists grew even weaker, the boy’s eyes looking away as he weighed his options. It didn’t take long for his hands to fall to his sides, slack with defeat.

“Fine,” he muttered.

“That’s more like it,” Mink said, letting his grip go loose. 

He let one hand fall away while the other snaked behind the boy’s shoulder, letting his fingers come to rest at the nape of the boy’s neck. His nails bit into the flesh there, a precaution to hold the boy if he tried to run off. Tension radiated off the boy in thick waves as Mink pushed him toward the opening of the alley and directly toward the two that had been looking for him.

“There you are, Sly,” Brains cooed. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Yeah, everywhere,” Brawn added. He squared his shoulders as they neared, blocking the way.

Sly didn’t respond to them, head barely turning to glance at Mink instead. 

“And I found him first,” Mink said, urging Sly forward still. 

The two before them stepped aside at the last second, eyes narrowed and annoyed, light flashing off of Brains’ glasses as he showed a tight-lipped smile.

“Completely understandable,” Brains said, sounding like he didn’t understand at all. “Do let us know when you’re done with him.”

Sly jerked with a shudder under Mink’s hand. Mink steered him sharply to the right at they reached the sidewalk, grip never wavering. He didn’t need to look back to know they’d be followed. He kept his hand on Sly as they walked along water-slicked streets, neither of them exchanging a word.

It wasn’t long before Sly’s steps became slow and halting, his breath labored from the effort. He trembled, and seemed entirely unaware of it.

“What do you want to eat?” Mink asked, gaze set ahead.

“What?”

“Pick a place,” Mink said, gesturing with his chin toward the brightly lit restaurants they passed.

“Uh, fuck. I don’t know,” Sly said. He sounded genuinely confused. “Not like I have any money.”

Mink blew a sigh past pursed lips, halting in his stride outside a fast food joint. He gazed down at Sly, his skin a sickly yellow in the lamplight. There were tired hollows under his eyes the color of ripe plums, his sharp cut of his cheekbones more like a corpse’s than a kid’s. His eyes were weary and dazed when they locked gazes, the shining light from before dimmed.

“Look, whatever I owe you, just give me a week,” Sly said.

“If I let go, promise me you’re not going to try to run,” Mink said.

Sly’s eyes darted to the side, locked on an unknown spot.

“Do I look like I could make it far?” 

“If you really wanted to,” Mink said flatly. 

Sly’s lips curled into a crooked smile, the barest hint of teeth showing.

“Promise,” Mink repeated.

“Fine, fine. You get your dirty mitts off me, and I won’t go anywhere, scout’s honor.”

“Like you were ever a scout,” Mink grunted.

His legs tensed as he watched Sly, ready to snatch him back up if he went anywhere. He could read it on Sly’s face, the urge to run, the need to flee. His body angled away from Mink’s, started to lean away, and then he slowly blinked. His expression went unreadable with exhaustion, his head giving a small shake as he seemed to think better of it.

Mink held the door of the fast food joint open before grunting, “Inside, now.”

Sly slunk through the door, a hand reaching up to pull his hoodie down before waiting for Mink to follow. His hair fell in untamed waves down his back, the ends snared into knots of Gordian proportions. It was a shame, Mink thought idly, his elbow nudging at Sly’s back to urge him closer to the menu.

“I told you, I don’t have anything,” Sly said, his first step a stumble before he caught himself.

“I never said you were paying.”

Sly cocked his head at that, brow furrowed as he looked Mink up and down. 

“How do I know you’re not some sort of creep?” Sly asked, fitting his hands into his pockets. “Hell, do I actually owe you something? Or are you trying to butter me up with a hot meal before making a move?”

“I never said I wasn’t a creep,” Mink said flatly. “And I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“Okay, but do I owe you anything?” Sly asked again, canting his head toward Mink.

“No.”

“Fuckin’ sweet,” Sly crowed, standing to his full height (unimpressive, Mink noted) as he made for the counter.

Ten minutes and two full trays of food later, they were tucked into a corner booth.

“For a creep, you’re not so bad,” Sly said between bites of food. He ate like a starved animal. He looked like one as well. 

Mink let his elbows rest on the table, fingers linked in front of his face as he watched Sly. His eyes had turned lively again, and sauce was smudged across one corner of his lip. He wondered how old Sly was. Not old enough to understand what he was getting into. Not old enough to understand that death was entirely real, and that he wasn’t immune to it.

This was stupid, Mink decided. He was stupid. This Sly kid was just as stupid.

“Who were those two?” Mink asked as he lowered his hands.

Sly took a long slurp of his milkshake before answering. “What, Virus and Trip? They’re friends.”

“Friends,” Mink repeated.

“Okay, maybe not friendly-friends, but useful friends.”

“Most people don’t hide from their friends, regardless of whether or not they are ‘friendly-friends.” The words tasted juvenile on his tongue.

“Well, I might owe these friends. Like, kind of a lot?” Sly said, glancing up at the ceiling for a moment. “Yeah, pretty sure it’s a lot.”

Mink didn’t need to ask what he owed them, and why. It showed in how he still shook even in the warmth of the restaurant, the way his fingers tapped nervously against anything they found when they weren’t occupied. His eyes refused to focus on one spot for more than the fleeting of moments.

“And where are your parents in all of this?”

“Oh, that’s rich,” Sly said. The corner of his eye twitched, and he tried to hide it with a quick blink.

Sly’s eyes fell to his tray as he chewed the end of his straw. He reached out to take one of his burgers and pushed it towards Mink. Mink pushed it back.

“I can’t eat all this,” Sly said, pushing it forward again,

“Then save it for later.”

“Sure, I’ll take it home with me- wait a sec, I don’t have one of those, do I?” Sly asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. His expression was sour, eyes still downcast.

Mink didn’t rise to the bait, waited instead until Sly’s attention was drawn back to the food, his pace slower now as he tucked into his fries. When the door swung open again, a cold gust of air accompanied the new patrons. Mink regarded them out of the corner of his eye, blood pressure inching up as he recognized them.

Virus and Trip. 

They had the faces of snake oil salesman and loan sharks, too-blond hair and one with glasses. Twins? No, not quite. The heights were wrong, their jawlines different. Brothers, maybe.

“Ohhh, God,” Sly muttered, pulling his hood back up before slouching in his seat, head down and face obscured. 

It was a useless tactic, the two wandering over with drinks in hands not two minutes later.

“How funny to see you here,” Brains said, eyes narrowed by lips smiling.

“Basically hilarious,” the other added.

Mink had no idea which name to pin to who.

“Yeah, I’m in total stitches,” Sly said, picking at a burger.

“It’s a shame you two are still so busy,” Brain said. “We had a nice deal we thought you’d like.”

Sly lifted his head at that. Mink eased his foot forward under the table, nudging it against Sly’s shoe. Sly’s eyes flickered up, focused on his face for two seconds too long before he was licking his lips and looking away.

“Whatever, I’m busy right now,” Sly said, distracted and aloof.

“As we can see, but know the offer is there when you’d like to pick it up,” Brains said, letting his hands brush against the side of the table as he moved to the next booth over.

Sly’s attention scattered after that, his hands toying with food wrappers and fries, pushing his leftovers around more than eating them. He jerked and locked onto Mink when he stood, quick to do the same. 

“Stay,” Mink instructed.

Sly listened, but not without a scowl as he dropped back down.

Mink kept an eye on him the entire time as he went to the counter for a takeout bag. He wasted no time in returning to their booth, loading up what food remained before taking Sly by the arm and pulling him to his feet.

“We’re leaving,” Mink said.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Sly responded. He didn’t try to jerk his arm away.

Mink let go only when they were outside, the wind quick to nip at any exposed skin.

“So,” Sly started, hands sliding into his pockets as he rocked back on his feet. “This goodbye or what?”

“Is that what you want?” Mink asked, turning his head to look down at Sly.’

A hot meal wasn’t enough to reverse the toll of what his no doubt hard and fast lifestyle had taken on him. Mink could make out a cut above his eye that he’d originally taken as a spot of dirt, scabbed over and untreated. Infected, certainly.

“What I want isn’t necessarily what I should do,” Sly admitted, scuffing his sneaker against the ground. There was a hole in the side, and it appeared that Sly wasn’t wearing any socks.

“Your self awareness is borderline impressive,” Mink said. 

He let his arm come up to rest over Sly’s shoulders again, heavy and guiding and with no threat of nails to control him. Sly padded along amiably beside him, feet dragging the longer they walked. He blinked up at the fluorescent lighting of the building they entered, looking around to take in his surroundings.

“This is priceless,” Sly said, lips quirking up as he shot a smug smile at Mink.

Mink didn’t match his expression. He wanted to be here even less than Sly, but the oversized- and more importantly- always open store was likely the only place to sell clothes at this hour, Godforsaken as it was.

“So what’s on the agenda? Need to pick up a pack of smokes?”

“What’s your shoe size?” Mink asked, ignoring Sly’s question.

“Like I even know at this point.”

“Then go find out.”

Sly’s expression took on a petulant sourness at being interrupted, but it wasn’t long before he was scanning the aisle signs. His method of determining shoe size was nothing more than holding shoes to the worn soles of his own until he found a match. He repeated the process when Mink told him to find pants, and then a shirt. 

He barely concentrated on the clothes themselves, constantly throwing glances over his shoulder and licking his already-chapped lips with nervous flicks of his tongue. Mink assumed at first they were meant for Virus and Trip, but after locking eyes with Sly one too many times, it seemed they were meant for him as well.

Sly’s disposition only worsened when they left the store, Sly hugging the plastic bag of new clothes and shoes to his body.

“You can put those on once you’ve showered,” Mink said.

Sly’s nostrils flared and the whites of his eyes showed more than ever at the comment. It was then that Mink saw Sly truly looking him up and down, sizing him up. Weighing the threat, the danger. The tension that had waned earlier was returning to his posture,

“Yeah, sure,” Sly said, expression turning guarded and stony. 

Mink’s home wasn’t so much a home as it was a living space. A place where things could be stored, food eaten. The furnishings were bare and unremarkable, walls free of personal taste aside from a few small crafts that were hung in his bedroom. The lights buzzed too loud as they were turned on.

“Not bad,” Sly said as he glanced around. “Well, better than half the places I’ve holed up at least.”

His tongue stuck between his teeth at that, like he was afraid Mink would tell him he’d still be sleeping on the streets after he washed.

“The bathroom’s the lefthand door in the hall. Fresh towels are in the closet.”

“Cool, thanks,” Sly said, slipping away with a nod.

It wasn’t long before Mink heard the click of a locking door and the hiss of the shower. He retreated to the kitchen to toss the leftover fast food on the counter before heading to his own room. He shrugged of his coat off with a long sigh before hanging it up, rolling his shoulders to relieve how they ached from the long day. He let himself rest on the side of his bed as he scrubbed a hand over his face, body worn as his mind. He closed his eyes to think, and found he could do anything but that.

He opened his eyes when the sound of the shower stopped, the silence filled instead with the dripping of water and water footsteps on tile. Leave it to the kid to nearly flood the place on his first try. He was still on his bed by the time Sly moved past, a towel around his shoulders and clothes fresh.

Mink took the opportunity to head to the bathroom then, boots leaving dark tracks as he stood in the water that had puddled. Steam still fogged the mirror as he washed his face and removed his contacts, blinking several times before pulling his reading glasses from the cabinet. By the time he was back in the living room, Sly was seated on the couch, back stiff and hands in his lap, fingers twisting together.

“So, when are you going to touch me?” Sly asked.

An unbecoming choked noise stuck in Mink’s throat. No wonder the kid had been skittish around him. Sheltered from what was no doubt trouble, fed and clothed, provided a place to rest. To him, there had to be a cost. A tradeoff.

“Well?” Sly prompted.

“I’m not going to touch you,” Mink said seriously. 

Sly’s laughter rang harsh and hollow.

“Good one, now get it over with.”

Mink looked down at him, seeing Sly now without the dirt and grime, his skin clean and freshly washed. He was all sharp angles and bones, without a conventional sort of beauty, but beauty nonetheless. His hair was damp and the ends were still tangled, hanging loosely over his shoulders.

“Fine,” Mink said, taking a seat next to Sly on the couch.

He heard distinctly the slowing, then quickening of Sly’s breath. The way it dragged shallow into parted lips, exhaled hard with resignation. Mink saw the goosebumps that smoothed over his forearms the moment Mink touched the tips of his hair, taking them between his fingers to study them.

”Do you really think I‘m going to hurt you?” Mink said, voice low and distracted.

”I never said you were going to do that,” Sly said, pausing mid-sentence to swallow. “But-- just...”

“Just?”

“Good things don’t happen to me, okay?”

“And why is that?” Mink asked

“Because I’m not a good person,” Sly bit out.

Mink hummed in response to Sly’s words, bringing his free hand up to join his first. He worked at them slowly, separating the strands with care, carding his fingers through what had come undone. Sly shifted in his seat, pale cheeks touched pink as he refused to make eye contact.

“You don’t have you pull this foreplay bullshit, you know,” Sly eventually snapped, jerking his head away when Mink’s finger caught on a particularly bad snare.

“This isn’t foreplay, now hold still or you’ll only hurt yourself.”

“Well whatever it is, knock it the fuck off and get to the point,” Sly said, voice strained. There was an aggressive gleam to his eyes, and Mink let his hands fall away the second he noticed it.

Something wasn’t right with this kid, and it wasn’t that he was on the streets. It was deeper, in the blood of his veins and the marrow of his bones.

Mink expected Sly to remain at arm’s distance, to draw back now that he’d been let go. What he didn’t expect was for Sly’s hands to meet his shoulders, fingers curling to grab hold before he was surging forward, closing the space between them and crushing their lips together.

It was forced and anxious, nothing but the barest mechanics of a kiss. It still lit Mink’s blood, kickstarting his heartbeat and stunning him for the time it took to take two breaths. His hands found their way to Sly’s shirt after that, fisting the fabric and pushing Sly away.

“Try that again and you will be sleeping on the streets,” Mink said sharply, his pulse in his ears.

Sly‘s mouth twisted down with disbelief, brows knitting as he shook his head. “Then why did you do all this for me?”

A sound rose to Mink’s throat, but no words. No explanation. Why was he doing this? He’d been asking himself that in the most abstract and ignorable of senses since he’d first put himself between Sly and the two that were so keen to find him. It wasn’t entirely selfless, Mink realized. 

It was for himself, first and foremost. An attempt to reassure himself that there was an inkling of humanity left in him

“Maybe the reason you receive so little kindness is because you seem unable to accept it,” Mink said, releasing Sly’s shirt and getting to his feet.

Sly didn’t ask where he was going as Mink went to the closet, pulling from it fresh linens and heavy quilts. When he returned to the couch, Sly had tucked himself against an arm rest. His cheeks were once again red, expression a sullen pout as his arms crossed over his chest.

“I swear I’m not usually such a shitty kisser,” Sly mumbled as Mink tossed the folded quilt on the couch.

“Do you listen to yourself speak?” Mink asked.

“Only vaguely. But seriously, I just don’t want you to think--”

“Go to sleep,” Mink said. Sly was a kid, a child. He wasn’t about to allow him to wax about any intimate talents he had. Especially not when Mink’s blood was still running entirely too hot.

Sly’s lips parted to speak, but he seemed to think better of it as he shut his mouth. He stood as Mink spread the sheets over the couch, ginger as he sat back down. He traced a finger over the stitching of a quilt.

“Your leftovers are in the kitchen and there’s water in the fridge,” Mink said as he dropped a pillow at the end of the couch. “Good night.”

“Yeah, night,” Sly said, nearly inaudible as he lifted covers to move under them.

Mink barely suppressed a yawn as he went back to his bedroom, leaving his door half open. He folded his glasses neatly and set them aside before settling into his own bed. He lay on the same side he always did, the other unoccupied and still made. The clock read an hour so late is was early, and he shut his eyes tight in annoyance. The sun would start to crest the horizon soon, and he’d accomplished what? Nothing except taking on dead weight, a night wasted on babysitting instead of information gathering.

He’d have to do something about the boy. His mind held no immediate ideas, too tired to formulate a plan.

Tomorrow, he told himself. He’d figure this out tomorrow.

He tried to clear his thoughts, to drive from them sleepy thoughts of Sly. Of his slim wrists and golden eyes, the way his sneer held a certain charm. He was delicate and rough at once, a cornered animal with the strongest of survival instincts. Turning him back out into the elements was far from being an option at this point. That kind of drive could prove very useful, Mink knew.

Mink was slipping into the fog of sleep when he heard it, the barely there footsteps coming down the short hallway. When Mink opened his eyes, Sly was in the doorway, one hand on the frame and his foot hesitating to past the threshold. 

“Um, so uh--”

“Mink,” Mink offered gruffly.

“Oh, so you do have a name after all,” Sly said sarcastically. “Anyway, like, Virus and Trip are kinda outside.”

“At the door?”

“No, just lurking around.”

“And you know this how?”

Sly’s hand dropped from the door frame to rub at the forearm opposite.

“They started tapping on the window.”

Mink pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course they couldn’t stay away.

“And did you speak to them?” he asked.

“Nah.”

“Did you want to?”

“No.” Yes.

Mink listened to the ticking of the clock that hung on the wall for a moment before responding. 

“Regardless of their nerve, I doubt they’d bother you in here,” Mink said as he rolled over, his back to the door. It was as much as an invitation as he was willing to give.

His eyes were shut again by the time Sly’s steps moved nearer, the mattress dipping under his weight as he made his way onto the bed. Cold air slipped under the covers as Sly lifted them, easing his body beneath him with a soft huff. His body was restless as it settled in, limbs moving and rearranging as he made himself comfortable.

He ended up on his side, facing away from Mink and curled in a similar position, albeit more tightly. The wind whistled through a crack in the window, and Mink wondered if he’d ever fall asleep. It became more unlikely as he heard the sound of shoes outside the window, cracked one eye to see two shadows passing by.

Sly hiked the covers up to his chin.

“Jesus, you think they’d beat it. It’s not like they can get anything more from me. They have my coil, they have-- they have my fuckin’ ALLmate, okay? What more can I give them, what do I even do?”

“Sleep,” Mink answered brusquely, noting the short, stiff movements Sly made as he shimmied back, his body closer to Mink’s than ever. 

Mink raised his arm before Sly could bump into it, and found promptly he had no place to put it. He let it fall over Sly instead, feeling the boy flinch in surprise at the contact. He thought twice of the action, decided quickly it wasn’t the wisest idea, and went to draw his arm away.

Sly’s hands were quick to grasp his forearms, fingers curling around him. He held fast when Mink tried to pull his arm away, instead tugging it more tightly against himself as though it was a blanket. Mink waited for Sly to let go. He didn’t.

“Sorry,” Sly mumbled. He didn’t try to explain himself.

Mink snorted a breath through his nose that was dangerously close to a laugh. For all his anger and spirit, Sly was still a kid. He let Sly hold onto his arm as though it was the only thing that anchored him to this world and kept him safe. For all Mink knew, that was exactly the case, and for now he would indulge Sly.

Tomorrow, he reminded himself. Tomorrow he’d deal with all this, but tomorrow isn’t real until he’s slept, so for now he’ll let it be.


End file.
